


Frost

by mxmjeans



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cheating, Extended Metaphors, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, sort of au but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 06:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18493435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxmjeans/pseuds/mxmjeans
Summary: George hated to think of Matty that way, but Matty was like frost.





	Frost

George distinctly remembered a fight over who got to sleep on the couch, but it all got foggy as he tried to recall who won. Not that it mattered - all those who had attended the party ended up in a heap on the floor, the majority of them shirtless, a handful also pantless, but all with pounding heads. The floor was a mosaic of bodies and empty bottles of alcohol, a sprinkling of broken glass appearing where the other two things could not be found. And, as George stood up, crinkling his nose in disgust, he realized his living room reeked of piss. 

"Oh, thank Jesus you're awake, George," Matty was slightly too loud for whatever hour of the day it was, and a few people stirred awake, groaning. George rubbed a hand over his face and looked out across the sea of people, barely recognizing half of them. "Advil?"

"In the - why are you asking? It's where it's always been." George tiptoed around sleeping bodies, a wave of nausea threatening to tip him over as he almost lost his balance. He stopped for a moment, balanced precariously with his foot placed in between a girl's arm and her body, the other one dangerously close to a shard of glass, while he steadied himself.

"Alright, alright, no need to be saucy." Matty scowled, rushing past George as he danced less carefully around the crowded living room, unbothered when he accidentally trod on a girl's hair who yelped awake. A chorus of "shut up"s echoed around the room, and George bit back a scold, but the script still formed in his head. It would have to wait.

George finally made it out of the obstacle of the living room without causing another incident. Matty had grown impatient waiting for him in the doorway and had disappeared, not that George had been disappointed in the moment of solitude - he had discovered the smell of piss to be from some rising popstar Matty knew but George himself couldn't name. George paused for a picture of the mess the popstar had made of himself, and vowed to keep it safe for a rainy day, if the guy ever made it to fame. Though, if he kept wetting himself at parties, there was a chance he never would.

The light of George's hallway wasn't bright by any means, but still, the dim lighting seared his eyes. A headache bloomed across his forehead, and he knew an Advil was the solution, but the task of trekking down the hallway to the bathroom seemed impossibly long and treacherous, the threat of vomiting up what seemed so fun the night before looming in every lit area of the hallway. 

Then, Matty appeared from the doorway of his kitchen, studying George with a careful eye that probably meant he had something mischievous brewing in that slightly skewed, strange mind of his. The task of making it to the bathroom, and in turn the Advil, in one piece, became even more daunting.

"I couldn't find it," Matty declared, a playful tone to his voice that indicated to George that this was entirely not the truth.

"Matty-"

"Come help me look, love? Please?" Matty pouted, advancing on George. He held onto his forearm and dragged him along the hallway before he had a chance to respond, even though it wasn't like he had a choice in the first place. George simply closed his eyes and urged the nausea away, allowing Matty to drag him toward the bathroom and relying on muscle memory to tell him if he was being led astray.

The bathroom light proved to be worse for George's headache than the hallway light, as it bloomed red against his eyelids and sent a jolt of pain through his head he seemed to feel throughout his whole body. A creeping suspicion that he might throw up, and soon, pushed its way through the headache and made itself known in the form of a violent churn of his stomach.

"So, where have you hidden it?" Matty said as he nudged George far enough into the small bathroom that he could close the door. It clicked behind George as it dawned on him he most definitely had fallen for one of Matty's tricks, and he was not physically well enough to play along or tell Matty to fuck off.

"It's not hidden anywhere, for fuck's sake, open up the medicine cabinet and look." George mustered as much bite into his response as he could, but it wasn't nearly enough to get Matty to back off. Bile rose into the back of his throat, and he breathed deeply, willing it to stay down.

"I already looked." Matty said, taking a small step toward George.

"Well, look again." Matty threw a brief glance over his shoulder at the cabinet, then shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to George. "Matty-"

"It's not really the medicine I need, isn't it?" Matty took another step forward, this time crowding into George's space, the smell of weed and sweat invading George's nose. It makes the agitation in his stomach worse. "Can I give you a hickey, George?"

"Thought you said we can't do that anymore, not until you broke up with your girlfriend. I agreed, remember?" George supplied, shrinking back against the wall as Matty placed his cold hands against George's bare chest. Under his fingertips, George's heartbeat quickened.

"She doesn't mean anything, love."

"I'm not helping you cheat on your girlfriend, Matty." 

"Anymore, you mean,"

"That's - it's different. I didn't know." George's skin crawled, with the anger and guilt that he had long since buried deep inside him. His fingers felt filthy, the hair tickling his neck feeling greasy and unwashed. He felt soiled, trashed on the inside, despite knowing he only touched Matty under the guise of the fallacious lies he fed to him.

"Just one, George. That's all." Matty slid a hand up onto George's neck, rubbing his thumb against George's pulse, feeling how his heart thrummed under the pad of his finger. "I miss you. Don't you miss me?"

Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou -

ofcourseIdoofcourseIdoofcourseIdoofcourseIdo-

"Fuck off," George said instead, pushing Matty off of him, unable to hold off the vomit any longer, either from the nausea or how the way Matty touching him again made him feel.

He knelt down in front of the toilet, allowing the burn of the bile to overtake his throat and race up through his mouth. The smell wafting through the air instantly sends another wave through him, and he finds himself urging and gagging once more, though this time there wasn't much left in his stomach to throw up.

"George, do you need anything?" Matty ventured quietly, his presence thick and heavy in the air next to George, who took a few more moments to breathe before Matty proximity to him became unbearable.

"I need you to fuck off." George snapped, frustration gripping onto him when Matty merely stood there in stunned silence after. "Didn't you hear me? Fuck off!" Matty finally scrambled away after George's outburst, leaving him alone in the blinding lights of his bathroom. And while throwing up alone in his bathroom wasn't ideal, George found himself, for the first time, not missing how Matty's cold hands made his heart race.


End file.
